


Introductions in Iowa

by LizaCameron



Series: King Corn [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s06e13 King Corn, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-09
Updated: 2005-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: A Josh/Donna conversation postKing Corn.





	Introductions in Iowa

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Introductions in Iowa**

**by: Liza C.**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Post-ep  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to other people; this is for fun and no money.  
**Summary:** A Josh/Donna conversation post _King Corn_.  
**Spoiler:** King Corn  
**Author's Note:** Beta'ed By: Kim 

It was funny-- some moments he didn't even notice it anymore, it had developed into so much a part of who he had become in the last month.  It was as if he should now introduce himself to strangers, 'Hi, my name is Josh Lyman – the guy who has an aching hole in his soul the size of a tall, doe-eyed, kindhearted blonde.'  

The ache-- that he was never really without, but which varied in intensity depending on the situation-- filled him tonight and made him as heavy as he'd felt in weeks. It wasn't a physical pain… no… wait… that was a lie.  It was most definitely a physical pain, but it wasn't caused by any true physical ailment.  It was an ache created by her absence, an ache whose sole purpose was to fill the newly formed fracture in his existence. 

There was a time, in the not-so-distant past… okay, yesterday... that he wouldn't have used the word kindhearted to describe her.  But that would have been because he was still angry, still stinging from the way she left him.  But he realized that not thinking of her as kindhearted-- or any number of other complimentary and apt adjectives-- did nothing to soothe the pain, but did everything to increase his guilt.

He sat on the side of his bed and ran his hands roughly through his hair, just as he'd done the prior night.  'Enough was enough,' he thought.  So, just as he'd done the prior night, he got up determinedly, strode out his hotel room door, crossed the empty hall and stopped abruptly in front of her room.  

            

Immobile, poised to knock, he stood gazing at the slightly peeling veneer of the door. He didn't knock, but he also didn't move to go back to his own room.  After a few moments frozen in that position, he admitted defeat for the second night in a row. Deflated, he once again started to turn around to retreat, when without his permission, his hand raised and his knuckles sharply rapped one time against her door.  

Stunned, he stood there. What had he just done?  He should run.  But where would he go?  It's not like he would be able to open his own door quickly enough to escape her.  What was he going to say?  Why had he done such an inadvisable thing?  

Maybe she didn't hear it; maybe she was already asleep.  But he dismissed that happy thought, knowing that it had only been a few minutes since he'd seen her open the door and grab the package from the floor as he'd made his way down the hall from the elevator.  He looked desperately at his own door, wishing he were on the other side of it.  His door… his card key… that's it!  If she opened the door, he'd tell her he couldn't work his card and needed her help to get back in.  

Just then he heard the safety chain begin to slide across the inside of her door and he knew it was too late, she was going to be standing in front of him in seconds and he better have something to say.

***

Donna stood for a moment looking out the peep hole, just as she'd done minutes earlier when she knew he'd been coming down the hall. What did he want?  More awkward non-conversation?  Help with his card key?  Or was he ready to let her have it?  She knew he was angry at her.  Angry at her for leaving. Angry at her for working for Russell.  She stepped away from the door.  Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away.  She took another step back, ready and willing to pay no attention to his presence on the other side of her door; ready to ignore the problem between them.  

But before she was able to retreat, something defiant gripped her. Who did he think he was?  Knocking on her door after one in the morning!  Why… to yell at her?  Well, she'd show him. She was just as angry at him, as he was at her.  He'd ignored her, he'd placated her and he'd taken her for granted.  If he was upset at her for leaving, well then, he had no one to blame but himself. And maybe it was time that she told him exactly that.  So instead of turning back and withdrawing, she stepped forward, slipped the safety chain off the door and opened it determinedly, geared up for a confrontation.

As soon as he saw her, Josh's breath caught in his throat and his pulse quickened in anticipation.  As his eyes roamed over her, he decided she looked adorable all ready for bed.  When his gaze hit her face, though, he was slightly startled by the hard expression he saw there.  Still, he couldn't quite read it; was she annoyed, angry, or just exhausted?

They stood there in silence for several interminable, tension-filled minutes.  His eyes searched hers, looking for an opening; the air between them charged with the dynamics of a long-standing relationship denied release on any number of fronts.  

Josh swallowed hard and felt the back of his neck prickle.  Despite his fatigue, nervous energy shrouded him.  He knew he had to end this.  End this horrible chasm by doing something drastic, by saying what was long overdue; do something, anything to remove the hardened expression from her face.  It was time to be a man.

Donna continued to stare him down, but since the moment she'd opened the door, she'd admittedly lost a bit of her nerve and much of her resolve to confront him.  She felt her palms dampen and her heart begin to beat in an irregular rhythm, but she still didn’t speak.  

Finally, she heaved a resigned sigh, ready to admonish him on how late it was and retreat back to the safety of her room.  But just as she opened her mouth to speak, he stuck out his hand and began, "Hi, my name is Josh Lyman…"

Looking down at his outstretched hand, she furrowed her brow slightly, wondering what he was up to.  He saw the confusion pass across her face, inhaled sharply, and found the courage to continue, his eyes never leaving hers.

"…the guy whose world stopped cold the instant he heard you might be hurt and didn't start turning again until the moment you opened your eyes and called his name."  

The intensity of his voice startled her, but not as much as his words did.  Of all the things she'd expected him to say, of all the accusations she'd expected him to make, of all the hurt she'd expected him to express, this admission completely took her breath away. The last thing in the world she'd anticipated him bringing up was Germany.  They never talked about Germany, which, she realized, was as much or more her fault than anyone else's.

The anger and tension whooshed out of her, leaving her knees feeling weak and her head whirling.  And suddenly she had no control over the hot tears that were currently clouding her eyes and threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.  She searched his face, despite her watery vision, and felt her heart flutter at the sad and earnest look she found there.

Glancing down to where his hand was still outstretched-- hers not in it-- Josh gulped and pulled his arm back to his side.  She must be really angry if she wouldn’t even shake his hand. Sighing, he looked deep into her eyes again and felt his heart squeeze when he saw them shining bright with as-yet-unshed tears.  Stealing his courage for the thing he knew she most needed to hear, he inhaled sharply, held her tear-filled gaze and finally whispered, "I'm sorry."

It only took Donna a beat before she responded by launching herself at him full-force.

Josh was caught slightly off-guard by her swift movement, but he still managed to catch her.  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, clinging to him as if for dear life, her tears now flowing unabated.  

As he wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed into her embrace, he decided that this was unquestionably preferable to a handshake.  He reveled in her closeness. The feel of her warm body pressed to his, the way her hair tickled his nose, and even the way her tears pooled and dampened his neck gave him more comfort than he'd known in quite some time.  

And the thought, foremost in his mind, was that she was finally in his arms. He'd wanted so badly to touch her, to hold her, to prove to himself that she was safe once she'd woken up in Germany.  But she had been so fragile that it had never happened.  And once she got back, things had changed.   They were different, or at least they'd acted different—tense-- and he hadn't known how to get back to that place, so he'd pushed it out of his mind. But now that she was actually in his arms, the relief of those moments in the hospital flooded back through him in a rush.

Donna felt him squeeze his arms around her waist and tug her even more tightly to him.  She tried to stop herself from crying, but every effort she made just caused the tears to flow faster.  She'd been tied up in knots over him for months.  Over leaving him.  Over being separated from him.  Over striking out on her own without him.  And the truth was that she'd done okay, better than okay, without him, but the success hadn't filled the void in her life that his absence created.  And no matter how justified she felt in her decision, the one thing she couldn't stand was the anger and distance that had separated them since she left.

And then the truth hit her.  She owed him.  She owed him more than she'd given him.  She slackened her grip because she realized she hadn't said one word since opening the door and she knew that it was her turn.

When Josh felt her arms loosen, he reluctantly released the tight hold he had around her waist.  Once again sharing the space of the hall in charged silence, she emitted a small laugh, before wiping her tearstained cheeks on the sleeve of her pajamas.  Then she gazed at him intently with eyes that she knew must be swollen and bloodshot.

She sniffed once before speaking; her throat was dry and her voice came out in gravelly tones.  "I never wanted it to end like that. In a million years, I never would have thought it would have ended like that."  

Josh's lips quirked slightly. "I know."

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry."

Josh's only response was a small shake of his head.  He'd told himself that he'd been the victim – that she was the one who should make amends, the one that should apologize, but as she said the words, he realized how ridiculous he'd been and that he never needed to hear her say it in the first place.  Because he was to blame and he knew it, he'd always known it.

They stood there, rooted to their spots, staring at one another. They were still shrouded in tension, but this time it was of a where-do-we-go-from-here sort, not of an angry sort.  Before either could work up the courage to chart a course for the future, the moment was broken by a yawn from Donna.

Josh emitted a soft, empathetic chuckle.  "Tired?”

She nodded in response.  "Long day…" Her expression lightened.  "…and then I just had an emotionally draining experience."

That earned her an actual dimpled grin.  Something she hadn't seen in what seemed like a very long time.  An emotion that felt a lot like yearning and relief all wrapped into one, stung her heart.  Everything was going to be okay-- if there were dimples, the two of them were definitely going to be okay. Josh stepped back once towards his room.  "You should get some sleep…"

She nodded and replied, "So should you." 

He looked back at his door and then to her again, but this time didn't budge from his spot. "Well, goodnight."

She, too, made no real move to go back into her room.  Instead she smiled at him and took a step further into the hall.  This time she stuck out her hand for him to take.  "Hi, my name is Donna Moss…"

His eyebrows rose to the ceiling as he wondered where she was going with this.  

"…the woman who's grateful to you for… everything… and who's missed you… and who is desirous of your friendship."

Josh looked down at her outstretched hand and this time felt a lump start to form in his throat.  He reached out and slipped his hand into hers.  They stood frozen for several long moments; their hands linked firmly together, their eyes locked.  He smiled with genuine relief and happiness. Even though an apology hadn't been necessary; these, on the other hand, were all words he not only needed, but desperately wanted, to hear.  "Desirous of my friendship?"

"Yes. Desirous of your friendship." She smiled shyly.

"Well, if you're desirous then I'm desirous.  Friends," he agreed, squeezing her hand for emphasis.

She bit her lip and let her gaze fall to the carpet, the emotionally-charged moment leaving her slightly overwhelmed.  She was about to pull her hand away when she felt him grip it tighter and she immediately met his eye again in question.

 

"But for the record, there was never a time that you didn't have it."

Her breath caught, as she felt something flutter in her chest, and all she could manage was, "Ditto."

Slowly, he released his grip and let her fingers slip from his.  Nodding towards his door with his head, he said, "I better get going; 5:45 comes very early."

"Yes, it does."  Donna smiled a bit wistfully.  "Night."

"Night…"  He turned back to his door and Donna reluctantly stepped inside her own room.

Just as she was about to shut the door, she heard him call her name.  She re-opened the door slightly. "What?"

He grinned from across the hall.  "Nice pajamas."

She looked down and blushed before offering him a shy smile.  "Goodnight, Joshua."

"Goodnight Donnatella." Upon hearing her full name, she flushed again and then disappeared into her room.  

Josh unlocked his door on the first try. His heart was lighter than it had been in ages and his mind churned with the thought that friends was a decent start… but it wasn't good enough, not by a long shot.

The End.

The End. 


End file.
